persephone | sonnet seventeen posted by imani , Wednesday, February 17, 2010 at 6:36 PM, in Labels: ars poetica

the leaves descent poignantly on the surface
of our immaculate story, like a ritual, a dance,
like a single, deep breath taken in, like a
knife plunged to my flesh to curse

your absence, to forget the pain buried
solemnly, your skin lithe as the jasmine-scented
caress of a love that knows the shape
and contours of the body it burns

tender as the sound of your laughter,
the night folds and leaps and leans
over elements and origins and constellations

seeking fragments that once belonged to you ~
the raging, necessary, impossible, minute
syllable that abandoned my withering sorrow.